Page 13 of Glamour and Grit

“We can’t be sure he’s alive,” I blurt.

“We can’t be sure he’s not, either. Breathe, Selene. Just breathe. You can hold it together for your brother, can’t you?”

I try to take his advice, dragging air into my lungs. The light-headed feeling fades, but the panic is more stubborn.

“You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

Just when I seem to be stable, vertigo overcomes me. I sway and topple. Dane smoothly catches me in his arms. My hands splay over his chest. On reflex, my fingers flex and press into the firm knots of muscle.

Jesus Christ, he’s like an action hero under that shirt.

My face is so close to him, his masculine scent overwhelms me. Dane’s strong hands hold me steady. His emerald gaze fills with concern and sympathy as he checks on me.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” My voice is thick with drowsiness, as if I’ve been awakened from a heady dream. Every fiber of my being cries out in jubilation at being this close to him. It doesn’t matter what my headthinks, obviously. My heart has spoken. That and other vital body parts.

“Lean on me as long as you need to. Just remember to breathe.”

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped. This time, it was for quite a different reason, though. Gradually, my panic subsides. But I don’t exactly settle down. Not with Dane holding me.

An impulse to milk my condition to stay this way longer comes and goes like summer lightning. We need to find out what happened to Justin. I don’t have time for foolishness. I gently push myself away from him, with an awkward thanks.

He gives me one last appraising look before gesturing to his left.

“What’s through that door?”

“My bedroom.”

He goes through the door, and a moment later I hear my drawer opening. I walk in to find him holding a pair of my panties.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at the garment in his hand, his mouth falling open.

“I–, I was just moving them out of the way. Look.”

He shows me a device so tiny it fits in the palm of his hand.

“What is that?”

“A camera, probably using your personal Wi-Fi to send a feed to whoever took your brother.”

He tucks it in his pocket.

“My sister, Harlowe, might be able to use it.”

I nod. He begins to poke around the rest of my room. I’m a little embarrassed, because while it’s not dirty, it’s a bit on the cluttered side.

A noise in the kitchen catches my ear. Going to the bedroom door, I listen down the hallway.

I open my mouth to tell Dane what I just heard. Instead, a big hand clamps over my face as a crushing grip pins my arms to my sides.

“Don’t make a sound.”

4

DANE

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